Family and I went to see "Sherlock Holmes" this afternoon. As someone who has read the books and stories many, many times, I'd seen enough of the previews to know that I'd better leave any expectations home if I was going to enjoy the film.

Robert Downy Jr was brilliant, as always, even if this interpretation of Holmes is a bit of a stretch. Same for Jude Law as Watson. I enjoyed them both very much, so long as I didn't make any comparisons. There were moments when they were spot on, and moments when they were very out of character with the books.

But their handling of Mary Morstan, Watson's fiancee, and the ever scheming and beautiful Irene Adler, "the woman" in Holmes' mind, were very well done. Lestrade was just right most of the time, too. The bad guy was wonderfully bad. Holmes treatment of his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, however, was abominable. As bad a tenant as he was, the real Holmes was always gentlemanly with her.

Oddly enough, much of the deduction revelations were given to Watson and Adler. Holmes didn't really shine until the end, and then there were some plot holes.

The overall plot felt like fan fiction to me and got rather muddled here and there, though there were a series of very good set pieces. But it is a visual feast, fast paced, often funny, with some little details here and there straight out of the books to delight a purist like me. And Watson's "bull pup," mentioned in "A Study in Scarlet" and never again in the Canon, has a very nice role.

Interestingly, a line from the previews, someone—Irene, I think—joking about Holmes and Watson "flirting" does not make it into the final film. Given the general choppiness of the plot and and the holes, I suspect a lot of good stuff got left on the cutting room floor. Too bad.

Overall, a fun, lively romp. If you're a fellow purist, try to forget the books and just relax and enjoy.

I just received this Christmas card from Ovsanna Arzoumanian, who has a number of lovely art pieces in the Orëska gallery. Enjoy!

In keeping with hallowed tradition, here is your Christmas eve snippet. I thought I'd better not give away any more of White Road or you won't need to read it at all, so here is a peek at the still untitled Nightrunner 6! Happy Holidays, all!

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Young lord Selin had made good on his promise. That night they were to meet him at the Drake in the Street of Lights to be introduced to Duke Reltheus and do some gambling. They were preparing to set out when Runcer appeared at their door with a familiar pinched look of disapproval around his eyes and mouth. “That young boy is back, asking for you, my lord,” he told Seregil, sounding pained at having to deliver such distasteful news. "I did tell him you were not available but he refused to leave until he spoke with you, so I put him in the back garden.”

“Thank you. I’ll see to him.” Seregil arched a brow at Alec as they headed downstairs.

They’d found Kepi a few months ago, when the boy had cut Alec’s purse in the Harvest Market. He’d led them a merry chase to get it back, too, right down into the sewers. It wasn’t that there was anything irreplaceable in the purse; the fact that the boy had been able to get that close, and then nearly gotten away intrigued Seregil and since then he’d found occasion to use him as an extra set of eyes and ears in the lower quarters of town. Kepi surfaced periodically with some tidbit, almost always something of use.

The boy was perched on the rain butt, wolfing down a mince tart. Runcer might not approve of him, but the cook had a soft spot for the child and never let him get way with without something in his belly.

Kepi was a true orphan of the streets, and knew neither his parents nor his own age, From the looks of him, he could have been anywhere from ten to a malnourished twelve or thirteen. He was skinny as a stray cat, with a pointed little face and wide blue eyes under a tangle of sandy brown hair. His long tunic—one of some nephew's castoffs that Cook had cut down for him—hung loose on his thin shoulders and his legs and feet were bare and dusty beneath it. He could play the innocent when needed, but in truth he possessed up the craftiness and streak of savagery needed to survive his part of the city. But he was also bright and quick, and utterly devoted to his benefactors.

As soon as he caught sight of Seregil and Alec he hopped down from the barrel and made them an awkward little bow. “’Evenin’, my lords,” he said, spewing crumbs around a mouthful of tart. “Hope I didn’t disturb you or nuthin’.”

“Not at all, Kepi. What do you have for us?” asked Seregil.

“That actor fellow, Atre the Mycenia? He's a friend of yours, ain't he?"

"How in the world did you know that?"

Kepi just winked and grinned.

"Yes, he's a friend of ours. What of it?"

"Well, he got hisself knifed tonight.”

“Bilairy’s balls! How? Where?” asked Alec.

“Down at the waterfront, back of the Skulpin. It just happened and I come straight up to tell you.”

“The Skulpin?” said Alec. “What was he doing down there?” The tavern was on the edge of the respectable commerce district of the Lower City, a place where Upper City young bloods gravitated to when they wanted a bit of danger. The gambling house catered mostly to traders and sea faring men, but there were plenty of cutpurses, bawds, and footpads about at this time of night, ready to relieve the unwary of their winnings. “Is he alive?”

“He was when I heard about it. I come straight here.”

“Good lad.” Seregil took half a dozen coppers—the only safe coinage for someone like Kepi to be caught with—from his purse and gave them to the boy. "You know the Drake gambling house?"

"In the whore's street, you mean, by the Astellus Circle?"

"That's the one. Go there and ask for Lord Selin. Give him our apologies and tell him we're going to be a bit late. You don't need to say why."

Kepi made him another ill formed bow and Seregil let him out the back gate. The boy took off at a run and was soon out of sight among the evening crowd strolling the grassy common.

Since they were dressed as lords, they took their Aurenfaie horses and galloped down to the Skulpin. There, they found the actor gasping on couch in one of the private gaming rooms. He was dressed only in rough trousers and a loose, blood stained shirt and rather rough looking shoes, and apparent attempt to fit in with his surroundings.

A small crowd of ne’er do wells and doxies were peering in from the doorway, but parted for Alec and Seregil, who had come armed.

A drysian was with Atre, tending to a wound on his belly. The actor was white-faced except for the traces of stage paint here and there on his skin, and looked frightened, but at least he was conscious.

“What happened?” Seregil asked, kneeling down beside him and taking the man’s hand.

“Oh, my lords!” Atre gasped, clinging to Seregil’s hand with both of his, which were sticky with blood. “How did you know?”

“Never mind that. What the hell happened to you?”

“It was a girl,” the young actor whimpered. “She said she was hurt, and when I tried to help her—look what she did!”

“And took your purse, I suppose,” said Alec. It was a common ploy among the girl cutpurses.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” the drysian scoffed as he began to bandage the wound. “Hardly more than a scratch!”

“What are you doing in a place like this alone?” asked Alec.

“Oh, you know—“ Atre was too pale to blush but he looked rather ashamed of himself.

Seregil gave him a knowing look. “Got tired of the pampered nobles and came looking for a bit of rougher fun?”

The actor looked away, saying nothing.

“This is no place for the likes of you,” the drysian scolded. “Stay up on your heights and find your fun there. I have better things to do than patch up you silly thrill seekers.”

“I will, Brother. By the Maker, I will!” Atre mumbled, then looked up imploringly at Seregil. “Please, my lord, don’t leave me here all night!”

“Of course not,” Seregil assured him, and caught Alec rolling his eyes. “Go ask the master of the house to hire us a carriage, will you?”

“If he can get one at this hour.” Alec strode out, calling for the landlord.

The drysian finished with the bandage and straightened up. “There, that should hold your guts in well enough. See that you keep the wound clean and it should be healed right in a week or so, if a bit sore.”

“I have to be on stage tomorrow!”

“I hope you have a good understudy, then.” With that, the drysian nodded to Seregil and took his leave.

“Oh, Calieus will love this!” the young actor groaned. “He hangs around like a carrion crow, just waiting for something like this to happen.”

“It’s his job, isn’t it? And I really don’t think you can blame this on your understudy,” Seregil chuckled, washing his hands with the water left in the pitcher the healer had used. “Honestly, if you’d wanted to come some place like this, you should have asked Alec and me. We’d have come with you.”

“Sometimes I think your lover doesn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t like you flirting with me, as you very well know. Behave yourself tonight or he’ll put you out in the street.”

Four men's socks in one week may not sound like a lot, but it is. Men's feet are huge! Thousands and thousands of tiny little stitches in fingering weight. My right thumb and forefinger are wrapped in band aids but the two pairs are done and under the tree.

I did get an early Christmas present out of the job, though, which made the task much easier, an Ott light. http://www.ott-lite.com/p-71-tasklitehd-reg-5999-sale-4999.aspx

When you get all done with it, it's just a pair of socks, and I wonder if non-knitter recipients ever really "get" what goes into such a gift, but knitters knit for the love of it, and those they knit for.

A review of one of my favorite Yunnan teas, from one of my favorite vendors.

http://www.teaviews.com/2009/12/21/review-sensational-tea-yunnan-fop-dianhong/

I HAVE BEEN ON VACATION FOR TWO DAYS NOW AND IT FEELS AMAAAAAZING. I'd nearly forgotten what it was like not to have a daily six-hour block of nonstop education. And today's my mom's birthday! And we're staying down here in the valley for a week! The rest of the family's due to arrive all at once tomorrow, so we're enjoying the calm while we can. (ahahaha oh god twenty people and three dogs what are we gonna dooooooo)

Um. But on the last day of school, we had our Secret Santa thing! It was just the small bunch of us that hang out in the alcove near the aquarium, but everything went over really well! DAVINA WAS MY SECRET SANTA AND SHE GOT ME SHOOOOES. Nice tall black PVC pumps, mmmmmm. I really needed them, too- they're the nearest thing to 'sensible' dress shoes I've got, now, because I'm the twat who only ever goes for the ridiculous buckle-y sequin-y zipper-y strappy shiny things. (Speaking of which- carpool buddy got me shoes for Christmas, too: these ones! We're planning a horrifying femme-Francis cosplay around them.)
My Secret Santa victim was Ari, who I actually went Christmas shopping with (twice!) so I could be lazy and just scope out everything she said she liked. And it worked! Being a slacker has its perks, hohoho.

So since then I've been working on finishing up everything I need to do for ALA. At this point it's mostly down to buttonholes and fastenings, which is a relief, though I do also need to make a hat, finish a jacket, and (possibly) dye a pair of jodhpurs when I get home. But it's not all piled up at the last second, and that's what matters!
In the same vein, my shirt and suspenders from Uniformal (AN AMAZING PLACE) arrived yesterday, right on schedule. So with that I've got my outfit for Horst tentatively complete- I still need something other than pins to fasten the waistcoat and cuffs, of course, but other than that it's pretty functional! Functional, of course, doesn't at all imply that it's even remotely pleasant to look at- for me, at least, because I realize how much fudging and bullshit went into it.
god i have so much ironing to do

But uh. Have some pictures?

..well, first some filler of babycaaaaakes ♥ EVERYTHING REVOLVES AROUND HER. She's been very cuddly lately. I wish we didn't have to leave her at home.

( Cut for progress! Or you can just keep looking at the cat, who's much cuter than anything in here. )

Annnnd that's about it. How are you, f-list? It's been a while.

Edit: Crossposted to cabal_cabal. !!!!!

Madly trying to finish a few knitting projects, I've been in front of the TV a lot. Yesterday I got to "see" (half watch half knit) Pixar's "Ratatouille" again. I adore Pixar's work, not just for the amazing visuals, but for their exceptional story telling. Here's one of my favorite quotes ever, which happens to come from that movie.

Anton Ego: "In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends."

This makes me miss my old Jeep Cherokee even more. You really can make music with anything. It takes them a minute to really get going, but it's worth the wait.

Knitting during the exciting parts of Criminal Minds can be counterproductive. >:-(

But we are on Disc 2 of season 4!

Nightrunner Map still available. 18x24" facsimile of Lynn's working map, signed and numbered. Limited edition. http://www.sff.net/people/Lynn.Flewelling/market/m.maps.html

Paypal payments can be made to: lbflewelling@roadrunner.com